


Just a Little Friendly Competition

by CaptainVonKummerspeck, Isabread



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Slash, bottom!sniper, contains excessive amount of flannel, the gayest sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 11:45:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3133220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainVonKummerspeck/pseuds/CaptainVonKummerspeck, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isabread/pseuds/Isabread
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I told ya to relax, mate. And you’re breathing wrong. Not from your chest,” He pressed his hand to the other man’s front, then trailed it down to his stomach. “from your belly. Nice deep breaths, now.” He felt the Texan adjust his oxygen intake, though he could feel his heart continue to thrum wildly in his chest.</p>
<p>“Whenever you’re ready, take the shot.” He breathed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CaptainVonKummerspeck wrote Engineer's perspective, Isabread wrote Sniper's.

The BLU Engineer had done it. His request for sustenance of higher quality than a polymer-protein and dubiously named “edible devices” had finally been cleared. The Engineer cracked a smile when he found it on the latest supply shipment. Ribs. Honest-to-god ribs. The Engineer was pretty sure it was beef, maybe some experimental form of beef, but beef nonetheless. He was careful to keep it secret from the team as he snuck the meat satchel off to his workshop. As a proper Texan, the Engineer was a trained expert in the ways of his people. He knew just about everything there was to know about cattle, and he sure knew how to make a barbeque so mean it’s spit in your eye and slap your grandma. Best damn barbeque this side of the mason-dixon line. 

Of course he never had any intention of keeping it for himself, just wanting it to be a surprise for the team. Everyone was right fed up with their rations, and he knew that with recent leave requests being denied for the ceasefire coming up, they needed some sort of break. The Engineer had specially welded his own propane grill for the job, waving off the odd question of his invention’s function until preparations were complete.

Now the time had come. As the team slowly gathered around the mess hall prior to lunch, The Engineer fired up his grill outside, knowing the tantalizing scent of his irresistible recipe would draw them.

The Sniper pulled the trigger on his rifle and let the resounding ‘bang’ echo across the walls of the base. He had been sitting up in his perch for hours, taking potshots at passing birds to whittle the hours away. The current ceasefire had left the sharpshooter with little to do. Off the clock, the Sniper didn’t really have many activities he enjoyed to pass the time. He had already read every book and magazine he owned at least twice over. While he couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy the occasional conversation with a teammate or a poker game with his colleagues, the Sniper was a man who preferred the peace and solitude that came with his profession. Which was why he was currently enjoying the silence of his nest, broken only by the occasional sharp crack from his rifle as he cut down stray fowl.

He briefly thought about heading down to the Demoman’s room to have a drink and shoot the shit, but a sudden, spicy scent reached his nostrils, erasing all thoughts of piss-beer and light conversation he previously had. That odor was unmistakably cooking meat. Honest-to-god meat. Sniper could hardly remember the last time he had even a bite of an actual animal. He could feel himself salivating at the smoky aroma wafting from somewhere down below. The Sniper’s stomach growled as he yearned for the savory taste of whatever the source of that smell was. He climbed down the ladder to his perch and followed the tantalizing scent to its point of origin.

What he found when he got there gave him pause. There was the Engineer, standing over the open flame of a grill. A gas-powered grill.

Mother fucker.

The Sniper was a man who believed there was an honor in doing certain things the traditional way, and grilling was one of them. He would not stand for this injustice, regardless of the delicious smell it was producing.

“Oi!” the Sniper yelled towards the Engineer, cupping his hands around his mouth to help carry the noise. “Just what the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”

Engineer looked up and spotted the Australian. He beamed and waved his robotic arm (now retrofitted with a moveable barrel of culinary tools) in greeting and welcome to share in this bountiful slab of protein. He chuckled. “Howdy! I thought I’d surprise everyone with a little good old fashioned home cookin’!” Engineer shrugged towards the salivating group drawing near.

Scout, drawing ever closer to the sizzling source of his temptations, his hunger, begged the Engineer, “Oh man, overalls, you gotta let me have a little taste before it’s done, ya gotta!” 

The Engineer kept his concentration rapt onto his precious ribs, smirking at Scout’s desperation. “It ain’t done, don’t worry, they’ll be enough for everyone.” He nodded. 

Scout gave the food a forlorn look, a deep, soulful pain in his eyes. He snatched up a fork and went in for a sample. The fork clattered to the ground. A mechanical arm clasped around Scout’s hand like a bear trap. The Engineer slowly turned his head to face Scout, The fires of the grill menacingly glinting in his goggles. 

The Engineer’s voice was low, yet within it held the somber threat of a painful death. “It’s best not to get in the way of a man and his barbeque, boy.” He tightened his vice-like grip on Scout’s hand; Scout cried out in pain. The Engineer leaned in, got quieter. “Now you best keep your distance, or I’ll take that hand of yours and give it a Central Texas roastin’ right along with these here ribs.” He paused to finish staring Scout down, and released him. Scout scampered to the back of the group, and everyone took a stride back.

The Sniper watched as the Engineer grabbed the Scout’s arm menacingly. Now that he looked, the whole team had gathered around in eager anticipation for the Texan’s cooking. The fools, they had no idea they had been terribly wronged.

The Sniper strode up the Engineer and looked him straight in the eyes. Or goggles, as the case was.

“Do you have any idea wot you’ve done, mate?” He gestured vaguely to the simmering meat cooking away at the grill. The Sniper leveled the most disappointed stare he could muster behind his aviators, willing his colleague to understand the magnitude of his mistake.

The Engineer gave a confused look, not comprehending someone having a problem with what he was right sure was an honest favor to the whole team. Sniper seemed very serious.

“Just what are you going on about, boy?” The Engineer briefly questioned his own usage of the word boy in this context, was Sniper older than him? He wasn’t sure. “Sit there with the rest of the team and I’ll let you know when it’s ready.” The Engineer turned back to his work on the grill, aware that Sniper remained in his spot.

The Sniper gaped at the Texan as he turned his back to the sharpshooter to tend to his accursed grill. It took him a moment to compose himself before he grabbed the Engineer’s shoulder to turn him back to face him.

“I mean just what the hell are you doing with that,” He jabbed his finger at the propane tank. “When you /could/ be doing it the right proper way? Do you think your fancy gas-grill is gonna make the meat any better? A real cook a’d know the only way to grill a fine meal is with charcoal.” He puffed out his chest as he finished, daring the Engineer to say otherwise.

The Engineer looked up at Sniper, tried to compose himself and decide which one of the flood of ignoramus statements that came from Sniper’s mouth he would deal with first. Engineer quelled the flash of rage inside with a little smile. He should pity the poor ignorant Australians, scavenging in the desert and doing the best with what they have down there. He kept his words slow, so that his friend may understand. “This ain’t just grillin. This,” he waved his hand over his masterpiece. “Is Texas-Style /Barbecue/, and I’m doing it right the way my Daddy taught me, and my Granddaddy taught him.” His tone became more serious, edging on a threat. “This is part of my lineage, and I’m /sure/ you didn’t mean to insult the entire Conagher family line with your words.” The Engineer looked at Sniper expectantly for an apology.

The Sniper quelled the split second of fear he felt as the Engineer leveled his dark, goggled gaze with the Australian. His tone was soft, but the words held a hidden harshness to them that sent shivers down the Sniper’s spine. He grit his teeth, feeling foolish for such a reaction to the Texan. The Engineer was more than his comrade, he was his friend. He sucked in a breath of air before calmly looking down at his teammate to begin his apology.

“No, mate, I didn’t mean anything by it I just-“ He stopped mid-sentence as the entirety of the Engineer’s words registered with him.

“I’m sorry, did you say ‘barbecue’?” He looked back to the meat on the grill, then back to the Engineer. Time seemed to freeze for the rifleman before his face contorted in an amusing fashion.

“Wot?!” He sputtered, face reddening with a mix of confusion and indignation.  
“If you were intent on barbecuing the damn things then why the bloody hell did you go and put them on the grill?! I just don’t- I can’t-” He tugged at his hair under his hat in frustration, muttering in distress for half a minute before looking back to his teammate.

“Listen, you can’t just slap some meat on the fire and call it barbecue. A real barbecue takes time, you gotta cook it slow under low heat to really bring out the flavor!”

Sniper really did it this time. After taking a breath, the Engineer retained composure even still. “Well, It’s best that /I’m/ the one with the grill. I’m the one with the ribs. I’m the one with the superior recipe and if you want to subject our fellow teammates to whatever over-cooked, dried out, charred husky jerky you gnaw on in that backwards island you crawled out under from,” The Engineer turned fully away from his work to face Sniper, defensively positioning himself between the barbaric bushman and his cultural culinary culmination of Texas pride, “-get your own meat and char it somewhere else.” He commanded with a growl.

Heavy stepped up to the two, waving his palms inoffensively. “I am sure food will be great, let us not bother Engineer from cooking job.” 

The Engineer nodded in agreement with Heavy, shooting Sniper another glare.

“This bar-beh-cue, is no big deal, it is not something to argue about.” Heavy continued. Engineer retracted his siding with Heavy at this statement. If looks could kill, both The Engineer and the Sniper would have already diced the Heavy into ground meat. The Heavy paused, quiet, confused about the entire nature of the two’s little spat.

Oh that tears it.

The Sniper clenched his jaw and forced himself to not grab the Texan by his overalls, bodily lift him off the ground, and shake him senseless. He thought better of it. The Engineer was a man of science, but the cold hard steel of his cybernetic fist packed enough force to break bones. Instead, he cocked his head at a jaunty angle and gave the Engineer a devilish grin while he took the insults blow by blow, making sure to show off his unnaturally sharp canines like a dog baring his teeth.

He was just about to retort when the Heavy spoke up, always the voice of reason within the team. As he listened, the Sniper calmed down for all of two seconds before the large man said the magic combination of words that made his blood boil.

“Barbecue is sacred, you hear me mate?” He practically snarled at the Russian. He turned back to the Engineer and pushed him out of the way of the grill while pulling a small packet out of his shirt pocket. It was his special mix of spices and herbs, the taste of a true Australian-cooked meal. He kept these on him at all times to season the rations they were given to make them a little more palatable. He unceremoniously poured the contents of the pouch onto the grilling meat before him.

“There, that should get the flavor going, at least. Make it a bit more appetizing.”

The Engineer forced his way back in front of the grill, too bent on salvaging his marred creation to deliver a proper righteous smackdown. His robotic arm switched to a basting brush, the perfect tool to dust off the meat before the vile powder set into the flavor. The Engineer was sure it would affect the taste despite his best efforts. 

“What kinda desert dust you throwin’ down on my recipe?! Git!” The Engineer tried to shove the Sniper further back while tending to his injured slabs of ribs. He shouted, “You likely ruint it!” then groaned in frustration as the cursed ingredients refused to come clean off. The Engineer heaped a dollop of his special recipe’s sauces onto the meat, hoping to drown out the impurities.

“I didn’t ruin anything.” The Sniper sneered at his teammate. “If anything, I saved it from the mess you started with. What did you just put on them anyway? Some greasy American slop wot fit for a pack of dingos?” The Sniper leaned towards the sizzling ribs and smeared some of the sauce onto his fingers, tentatively bringing them up to his mouth to lick at the substance.

The instant his tongue met the viscous liquid he tensed up, shivered, then smacked his lips. The slightly tangy, smokey flavor of the sauce filled his mouth with a savory blend of spicy and sweet. He felt his eyes water at the taste, though he would not admit it was not out of disgust. He mentally shook himself out of his silent admiration for the Texan’s skill. He would not be one-upped by this showy, gas-grilling, southern hick. This /American/.

The Sniper made a show of spitting on the ground right in front of the Engineer as he contorted his face to one of exaggerated revulsion.

“Bloody hell, that was just about the worst thing I’ve ever put in my mouth. What did you even put in this, motor oil? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re much better suited to building toys rather than getting your hands dirty with some real cookin’.” He smirked at his friend.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see the rest of his team watching the exchange between the two mercenaries with looks of exasperation and hunger while they subtly tried to ease their way towards the grill undetected.

“It was fine ‘fore you sprinkled that powdered goofer dust all over /my/ ribs!” The Sniper’s addition to the food had finally wafted up into the smoke, the aroma of the spices exotic and, admitting to only himself; tantalizing to the Texan. He licked remnants of the sauce off the Gunslinger, twitching from the tangy kick entirely new to him. Hot damn, this was just what the sauce needed. The Engineer kept a displeased façade in spite of the taste. He felt anger well up in him. It was difficult to accept that the Conagher recipe could be so easily enhanced by the Sniper’s stupid ingredients so sloppily sloshed over his efforts. “The taste of it’s all over the meat now, there’s no fixin’ it thanks to you.” The Engineer pushed him further away from the grill as he stepped up to him, trying his best to get up in his face despite their difference in height. “You keep yer own piss-stained hands away from anything edible.” 

He jabbed the man’s sternum with a forceful poke, leaving a ring of sauce on the Sniper’s vest. The Engineer’s face grew ruddy not from the heat of the grill behind him, but from rage. “I have never in all my life been so disrespected. Here I am doing everyone here good, and you can’t stand it so much you have to come over here and ruin everyone’s good time. Everyone was lookin’ forward to some good eatin’ and now it’s worse than the rations, no, it ain’t even right for a hog trough!”

The Sniper had had enough of the Engineer’s ignorant, uncultured insults to his nation and heritage.

“Where the /fuck/ do you get off -,” he began, before pausing at the sound of smacking lips and muttered agreements. He turned around to face his team and found the entire group huddled together over the remains of the ribs still sitting on the grill.

“Oh my god, this stuff is better than my Ma’s cooking’! Uh, don’t tell her I said that…” The Scout was sucking on his digits loudly.

“Aye, that’s a right good meal ya made, lad!” The Demoman belched in agreement.

“These are the fruits of true American culinary prowess! Do you hear me, you commie bastard? THIS is what a /real/ man eats!” The Soldier yelled loudly in the Heavy’s ear, spitting flecks of meat onto the side of his face.

“Da, is good. Engineer is credit to America.” The Russian shrugged off the Soldier’s insulting patriotic ramblings in favor of complimenting the Texan and wiping spittle off his face.

“Well, it’s not fine cuisine, but satisfying none the less.” The Spy attempted to school his face into the perfect mask of stoic appreciation, but didn’t quite manage due to the impressive smear of sauce on his right cheek.

“I must say I enjoyed that quite a lot.” The Medic said, examining a cleaned rib bone.

“Mph shun hm hmmmd huddah.” The Pyro nodded, sagely. The Sniper briefly wondered how the hell the Pyro even managed to eat any of it with his mask still in place before looking down at the scraps of bones left forgotten on the grill.

The Sniper silently mourned the fact that he didn’t get to eat even a single rib. Sure, the Engineer might have cooked them wrong and totally /not/ deliciously, but it was still the first meat he had seen in a long time and he had every intention of having a bite of it regardless of its crude cooking method.

“Just when did you yabbos eat the whole damn thing? And why didn’t you save any for us, ya bloody pikers?!” The Sniper growled at his teammates.

The Engineer stood, mouth agape at the sudden lack of ribs. He frowned and was about to make a similar objection as the Sniper’s, but then smiled, turning back to the Australian and putting his hands on his hips, puffing his chest out with pride. “That was a close call, but it looks like my recipe pulled through after all. No nasty dust of yours can impact the integrity of my carefully curated spice rubbed, marinated meat. You didn’t manage to wreck the day after all.” 

The Engineer moved to clean up the mess, stomach audibly growling in protest. The smoke, the flavor, and that tiny taste had built up his appetite, only to likely have it satiated by whatever canned slop he would go dig out of the mess hall later. The rest of the team had collectively ambled away from the scene, averting their gaze from the Engineer as they were not wanting to be alone with the man they had each robbed of dinner with their gluttony. He cleaned things up, not bothering to cobble together a meal; it would be too unsatisfying after missing out on the ribs.

“If you hadn’t decided to get all in my business, I woulda made sure there’s been enough for everyone.” The Engineer didn’t sound so mad, knowing that he himself had argued just as much, saying a lot of things he knew he didn’t mean. He realized he would have to make amends later. But not now. 

The Sniper wanted to shout a retort at the grease-monkey, but he was tired, his anger burned down to nothing more than cinders. He sighed audibly, feeling the dull pang of hunger twist in his gut, reminding him of what he had missed out on.

“Fine, ya did alright, Truckie.” the Sniper rubbed his nose, embarrassed. He turned around to head back to his van to scrounge up whatever he could to satisfy his hunger for the evening.

“But you know,” he called back over his shoulder, “it probably would a’ tasted /half/ as good without my herbs.”

And with that he strolled away with his hands jammed in his pockets.


	2. Chapter 2

A week later the Sniper climbed into the driver’s seat of his van to make a supply run. When at a base without a railway like the one they were currently holed up in, it was up to the mercenaries themselves to volunteer their vehicles for bringing in rations and other utilities. This week was the Sniper’s turn to drive all the way out to the nearest supply depot for his idiot team.

He adjusted the mirror again (the damn thing always managed to change positions on him) and turned the keys in the ignition. The feeble stuttering sounds coming from the hood were not what he was expecting. He tried again and this time was rewarded with a loud bang before the engine gave a sputtering cough and died.

“Come on, don’t do this to me girl.” The Australian muttered before slamming his fist against the dashboard and stepping outside. Thick white smoke was beginning to rise from the hood of his van, troubling the sharpshooter. The Sniper didn’t know a damn thing about cars, but he at least knew they shouldn’t sound like a dying animal right before belching out smoke. This would require someone with a level of skill far beyond his own in these matters. He figured the Engineer would at least know what the problem was.

The bushman headed into the base proper and followed the halls until he reached the Engineer’s workshop. He rapped his hand on the thick metal door, hoping the Texan would hear him.

“Truckie, you in there mate? Got something that could use your expertise.”

The Engineer was making himself busy with his latest project; long-distance sustaining teleporters. He had hoped to complete a prototype before the next scheduled supply run to install in here and the base’s supply depot to cut down on the long drives he and the Sniper had to make with their respective vehicles, but he missed the deadline, and since it was the Sniper’s turn to make the run, he spent his freed day working on the blasted contraptions. 

A thudding at the steel-plated door of his workshop interrupted the delicate task of replacing a blown power coupling; this machine was so sensitive and finicky. He sighed, set down his current tool and headed for the door.The Sniper stood behind it. The Engineer raised his goggles above his brow to see him better, they and his face had gotten lightly dusted in his work.

“Is this something important enough to ignore my sign?” The Engineer, with a hand on his hip, pointed upward at the large orange sign above the doorframe that read in black letters, “QUANTUM ENTANGLEMENT: DO NOT APPROACH!” The Engineer then admitted, “Well, the quantum vacuum was giving me too much trouble to be online today, so it’s actually plenty safe for now. Aren’t you supposed to be heading out?”

The Sniper looked up and saw the sign, feeling foolish for not noticing it immediately. He coughed awkwardly and met the Engineer’s gaze, noticing he had removed his goggles from his eyes. The Sniper was always so used to seeing his colleague with his eyewear on that when they were absent he was always a little taken aback. The sharpshooter often forgot that the man even had actual eyeballs under the dark lenses. Now that he looked though, they were a startling bright blue, like an unclouded sky at high noon. They were actually kind of beautiful. He stood there for half a second longer than he should have, staring down at the Engineer like an idiot before gathering his thoughts.

“Yeah about that, can’t get me bloody car to start. I don’t know what the problem could be, but if I did I wouldn’t even know the first thing about fixing it. You think you could help me out?” Sniper asked, hoping his friend wasn’t still raw about last week’s dispute.

The Engineer cracked the slightest smile at Sniper’s little awkward pause and stare. He was surprised Sniper claimed to know so little about cars; he always thought the man was so self-sufficient. His spare time was probably spent on something exciting, like wandering around in the bush killing what he found with his bare hands. The fact that he kept to himself was why that scenario was based more in speculation, he would find himself pondering about Sniper more often than the others. 

Despite being interrupted, he didn’t mind helping the Sniper out. That machine was frustrating work, and tinkering with something as simple as a car would be relaxing. “I’ll have a look at it.” The Engineer disappeared into his workshop, leaving the door open. He gathered up a few tools that he thought would be useful and started loading them up in a toolbox. “What was it doing?” He called out to him.

The Sniper didn’t know whether he was meant to follow the shorter man in or to wait outside for him. He didn’t want to irritate the man he was commissioning to help him by treading on sacred ground or what not. He settled for standing around awkwardly at the entrance.

The inside of the Engineer’s workshop was massive, but it felt small and cramped due to the innumerable machines, scrap metal, and tools splayed haphazardly around the room. The Sniper always pegged the Engineer for a neat and orderly man, but he supposed there was a method to his madness. When he heard the Texan ask him a question from across the room he snapped out of his reverie.

“It uh, was making a right awful noise before it just seemed to…I dunno, give up. Then it started spewing out smoke. The smoke was white so I reckon nothing was burning, which is good I guess.” He scratched the back of his head uncomfortably, hoping this information was sufficient.

“If you want to take a look the poor girl’s out back. Follow me.” The Sniper nodded his head to the doorway.

The Engineer grabbed what he gathered and hurried after Sniper. The Winnebago out back was faintly hissing, a thin trail of smoke rising from the hood. Without even opening up the hood, the Engineer figured it was most likely the radiator, judging on the steamier smell coming from the van. He lifted the hood and secured it, wafting away the steam and fumes. The Engineer sighed and rubbed his head, smearing the soot on his skin. It was definitely the radiator, but there were so many things wrong here, objectively more inconsequential things, but wrong nonetheless. How could Sniper be such an inept car-owner? He decided to focus on the actual problem and keep the nit-picking to himself.

“It’s likely her radiator. I’ll need to replace the coolant and some tubing around it, and we’ll see what that does.” The Engineer couldn’t resist, and redacted his decision to focus on the main problem. He leaned over the engine, gesturing for the Sniper to look with him as he gestured to almost every part as he spoke, “but really all of the tubing in here needs to go, look here, the rubber’s cracking all over the place, and you need your fluids topped off here, your brake pads could use a total overhaul, new models, and what kind of oil are you putting in this thing, unprocessed brontosauruses? I’m gonna need to take her into the shop and check up under her for rust.”

The Sniper felt his face redden from the embarrassment of hearing how out of shape his van was in. It had just been so long since he took her out for a long drive. But if the Engineer’s assessment was correct, and the Sniper knew it was, his old girl would pull through.

“Alright, thanks for the help mate. I hope ‘m not keeping you from anything important?” The Sniper didn’t want to inconvenience the Texan, but one way or another they had to get those supplies. And if the Sniper couldn’t do it, the Engineer would have to.

"Nah, that quantum nonsense is just a pet project of mine. I reckon it won’t take long and she’ll be ready to go real soon, but I’d like to fix her up more later,” Engineer gave the slightest pause, and his voice softened a touch, “if you don’t mind.” He closed the hood. 

They pushed the van into the Engineer’s shop, and he got to work right away tinkering with the vehicle. He said he would just fix the radiator, but he couldn’t help touching up a bolt or tube along the way. It felt good working with something so simple for a change, a form he knew in and out. He used to really love working on cars back in his youth, he remembered times when he hot-wired his friends and family’s cars without their knowledge just to take them apart and put them back together in a night. He smiled, revelling in the nostalgia.

As the Engineer tinkered away with his van, the Sniper sat awkwardly at a workbench and watched the Texan work. The Engineer seemed totally focused on the task at hand. The bushman couldn’t help but admire the man’s work ethic, being a professional in his own field himself. He watched as a stray bead of sweat rolled down the Engineer’s shaven forehead while he worked away at the tubing. The Sniper never really thought about the Engineer’s appearance before, but seeing as there was little else to do around the man’s workshop that wouldn’t get him in trouble by touching it, the sharpshooter was left to study the Texan before him.

The Engineer was of a stocky build that seemed to compliment his round, slightly boyish cheeks despite his masculine, chiseled jaw. Though he could not tell under the layers of his overalls, the Sniper imagined that the Engineer had a slightly plump gut concealing a layer of strong muscle. He had powerful arms from years of diligent work with machinery, his fingers large but delicate to get at the smaller, touchier components. All in all, the Sniper thought the Engineer was a pretty attractive guy.

The Sniper realized what he was doing and felt his face grow hot. It seemed rather rude to be eyeballing a bloke who had his back turned to you. He coughed into his hand, hoping the Engineer hadn’t glanced up at him at any time and caught him staring.

“You uh, don’t have to work on her all day, mate. I could always take your truck to pinch the supplies. If you’re okay with that, that is.”

“Don’t you worry, I’m just about…,” he drew out his final word as he tightened a final bolt, “…done.” He looked up and flashed a smile. “I, uh,” he scratched the back of his head, averting his eyes for a moment, “took a few liberties and touched up some extra things, should run a bit smoother.” He walked up to Sniper, wiping his face with a rag. “When you take her out, I should go prolly with you ‘case she has any more trouble on the way,” The Engineer gestured to his own greasy, dusty clothes, “if you don’t mind waiting a bit longer to get myself a little more presentable. Why don’t you fire her up?”  
The Sniper swallowed the lump in his throat and forced a smile on his face.

“Thanks, Truckie. I knew I could count on you for something like this.” He called as he watched the Engineer retreat from the shop to freshen up. The Sniper slid into the driver’s seat and fired up the van. He was rewarded with the smooth purr of his engine, with none of the thick smoke from earlier that day. She sounded better than ever to the Sniper. He whistled appreciatively at the grease-monkey’s handiwork.

When the Engineer returned and fastened himself in passenger’s side the Australian put her in drive and drove out of the garage door to the mechanic’s workshop, taking the road that would lead them out of the base and onto the highway.

The Sniper habitually flicked the oversized head of the bobble-toy resting on his dashboard on his way to turn on the radio. The reception tended to be shit out in the Badlands, but he managed to find at least one channel that produced something more than mangled static. As he listened to the blaring country rock he began to crave a cigarette. He reached for his vest pocket and pulled out a pack he traded off the Spy. As he fished for one he turned his head to his companion.

“Want one? If not, I hope ya don’t mind if I light up.”

“I’d like that,” The Engineer slid a cigarette out of the pack the Sniper held out for him. “Much obliged.” The Engineer popped the fag in his mouth and began tugging the glove he usually kept over the Gunslinger off. “I have my own light, do you need one?” He twisted his robotic thumb in such a way so that it hinged back, producing the flame akin to a lighter. He lit his smoke with it and turned the thumb back. The Engineer looked at his prosthetic. Some people didn’t react well to his arm, and at times it made The Engineer a little self-conscious, hence the glove. “I’m always tinkering with it, you know? Last model of mine had more doodads than a Swiss Army knife.” He chuckled a bit, thinking he might relieve any awkward tension Sniper might have with it. 

The Engineer sure didn’t read any reticence on his face, but the Sniper was a hard man to read. Always hiding behind those aviators, he had a kind of mysterious allure to him, but not the pretentious kind that the Spy pretended to have. The Sniper seemed pretty down to Earth. If the Sniper had been born elsewhere, The Engineer suspected he’d make a fine cowboy. Did they have equivalents of that in Australia?

“That’s a fine piece ‘a machinery you’ve got on your arm, Truckie.” The Sniper leaned in to light his own cigarette, impressed by the versatility of the robotic limb. He recalled the arsenal of grilling tools he had on it a week ago. The Sniper always secretly wondered if the Engineer lost his arm prior to designing the Gunslinger, or if he had actually removed the limb solely to utilize the strange invention. He never asked about it just in case it was a touchy subject for the mild-mannered Southerner.

As he took a drag he popped the windows to allow the smoke to billow out. He took off his hat so that it wouldn’t get swept out the window by the swift breeze and ran a hand through his hair. He welcomed the cool air as a small reprieve from the oppressive desert heat, deciding to slide off his aviators to fully enjoy the wind in his face. The Sniper undid the first button of his shirt to cool off his chest as well. Feeling much more relaxed now, he gazed lazily out onto the deserted open road before them. It would take about an hour to reach the supply depot, but the sharpshooter didn’t mind the duration as much as usual now that he had company. He liked his privacy but sometimes it was nice to enjoy the presence of another.

He looked to the Engineer and gave him an appreciative nod.

The Engineer was sure he’d seen Sniper’s bare face, but never took any time to look at him in that state, and seeing as how bleak the other scenery was around them, enjoyed the view. His thick, sharply trimmed sideburns accentuated his cheekbones and longer face shape. His eyes were knowing, attentive, and the softest blue. The Engineer noticed a scar running from his nose to his left cheekbone, he wondered what story lie behind it. His air of rugged mystery was not lost with his hat and glasses. The Engineer’s gaze wandered to exposed lines of Sniper’s clavicle.

The Engineer spoke before the gap in their conversation and his lingering stare became awkward. “Thanks, it started out as one of my earlier inventions, but I always keep ‘er up to date.” He felt relieved at the Sniper’s earlier compliment as he flexed his artificial hand before slipping the glove back on. He took a puff of the smoke he was given. The flavor was much smoother than he thought the Sniper would prefer. Maybe these were traded off of the Spy. He tipped the cigarette to indicate the subject of his words. “I like to take the time to roll them myself, course I don’t come upon tobacco as often out here.”

“Really? Used to roll them meself, what with livin’ out in the bush for months on end. ‘Course out there you gotta deal with what you got. Food especially. Eat whatever you kill and kill whatever you can eat.” The Sniper began reminiscing. The thought of food and wild game brought the Sniper back to that spat last week over the barbecue. The bushman frowned as he remembered all the things they said to one another.

“Look mate, ‘m sorry about what I said to you wot a week ago. You were just trying to do good by the team, I get that.” The Sniper left out his opinion on the Texan’s grilling methods, not wanting to spark another argument.

Suddenly an idea formed in the sharpshooter’s head.

“You do any hunting mate? It’s great sport, and the rewards’ a nice cooked meal. Maybe next base we transfer to that’s near a forest an’ we can do some bagging of our own?” The Sniper proposed, side glancing the Engineer.

“I’ve only gone after pheasants with dogs and buckshot with some buddies a few times. But I reckon your method’s about the only way to get some real meat after what a pain it was to get those ribs. A transfer’s comin’ up real soon if I’m not mistaken.” At his mention of ribs, the Engineer looked back on their heated exchange with a twinge of embarrassment. The Sniper was not solely to blame for the conflict, and he knew it. He started his next words reluctantly. “I may have overreacted in that situation. ‘Was too stubborn to admit that… them spices of yours gave it a real kick, of what I got to taste of it. Would you possibly share what’s in it, or is it a Mundy secret?” The Engineer turned to him and smiled.

The Sniper smirked at the mention of buckshots, but chose not to comment on it for the time being. Instead he focused on the Engineer’s sincere compliment to his season blend.

“Ah, it’s not a secret or anything. Just something me mum taught me a long time ago. It’s a mix a’ ground cumin, salt, dark chili powder, dried orange peel, and seaweed.” He briefly thought back to when he was still a boy, helping his mother in the kitchen after a long day of herding the sheep with his father. Cooking was a bonding experience for the Sniper. It brought people together. He should have just kept his mouth shut and helped the Engineer when he was cooking those ribs. He scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably before speaking up.

“You know, I reckon whatever it was you put on those slabs wasn’t half bad either. I wouldn’t mind getting another taste sometime.” The Sniper tried to seem nonchalant about the whole thing, but he suspected he didn’t pull it off entirely.

The Engineer felt relief that their apologies went over smoothly. The Sniper was a good guy and the Engineer was the kind of person who didn’t want bad blood between anyone if he could help it. “Seaweed? Wouldn’a think to use that.” The Engineer nodded in culinary admiration. “I ‘spose we’ll get the change to cook again once we bag something come the transfer.” The Engineer was actually starting to really look forward to this proposed outing; being in the great outdoors, cooking with the freshest meat possible, and more importantly, spending more time with the likeable Australian.


	3. Chapter 3

The upcoming transfer the thunder mountain turned out to be a lot of work for the Engineer, having to prep and relocate his workshop materials to an entirely new (and smaller) space allotted for him. He had to get a little inventive with storage, but there were no hitches in the move itself. It seemed like every little thing here was broken or run down, from stoves in the mess hall to the entire haphazardly-wired electrical system, and he was the only man for the job. That and dealing with getting used to the new layout and new battle strategies left the Engineer little time for any of his side projects, or really much socialization. 

As busy as he was, he hadn’t forgotten about the Sniper’s offer, and with the rugged wooded terrain that surrounded them, it seemed like they could actually pull it off. The Engineer hadn’t really had the chance to bring it up to him. He admitted he got a little cold feet about mentioning it to him, too; Sniper seemed like such a loner, and the Engineer didn’t want to feel like he was getting in the way of a pastime that the Sniper seemed to partake in alone.

The BLU team didn’t have long to settle into their new base before they were dragged into another territorial pissing-match with the REDs. This disappointed the Sniper greatly, as it meant putting off his promised outing with the Engineer for an extended period.

At the moment he was huddled in the attic of a ramshackle barn, scope focused on the enemy while the rest of his team pushed the cart towards the REDs. He shivered, it was cold in the dingy little space above the barn. His face and shirt were soaked with rain water pouring into the room from the open window he was seated at. He hoped his team would finish getting the cart across the next checkpoint so that he could change to a drier, more hospitable location to give support fire. Just as he was considering making an early retreat for his own comfort the sharpshooter heard the telltale creak of the floorboards behind him, alerting him to an enemy spy. Luckily for him the barn was as old as it was water logged.

The Sniper grabbed for his kukri and spun around just in time to avoid having a knife jammed into his spine. He rolled to the side as the RED Spy decloaked and turned to the Australian, beginning to pull out his revolver. Before the Spy could point the weapon at him the Sniper struck his leg in a sweeping kick that knocked the Spy’s balance out from underneath him and caused him to drop his diamondback. As he fell he grabbed the sharpshooter’s shoulders and the two tumbled to the ground together, causing the Sniper to drop his knife in surprise. It clattered to the floor uselessly several feet away from the two struggling men.

The Sniper seized the Frenchman by the neck while the other dug his fist into the man’s gut. They traded blows for about a minute before the Spy’s hand finally found his balisong and thrust it into the Australian’s shoulder. The Sniper howled in pain as the blade sunk into his flesh. He reared back and slammed his fist into the Spy’s jaw, hurling the man off of him for a moment to allow him to crawl back to his fallen kukri.

As the Frenchman raced to the Sniper with his knife raised, the Sniper stood and drew his own blade, bringing it down and right through the top of the Spy’s skull. The body slumped to the floor as the Sniper panted, exhausted from the confrontation. He gritted his teeth as the adrenalin seeped out of his system and the pain in his shoulder caught up with him. His lifted his fingers to the scorching wound. Blood was quickly pooling into his shirt and running down his arm. He would have to take care of the injury immediately. He pulled his knife out of the Spy’s forehead and retrieved his rifle, heading out of the barn to seek aid.

“Medic!” He cried, cupping his hands to his mouth to call on the German. Across the battlefield he could see the man, his healing gun drawn on the team’s Heavy. The Sniper sighed. Their doctor was always near the Russian like he was glued to the man. He looked slightly to the left of the duo and saw that the Engineer had set up camp in a little alcove with a level three sentry and a dispenser already assembled. He decided to head for the dispenser rather than fuss with the German. Dispensers didn’t argue, and he could fill up on some ammo while he was at it. He clutched the gaping wound in his shoulder and headed towards the Texan.

“Oi, Truckie. Mind if I use your dispenser for a minute? Had a run in with a bloody spook.” He gestured at his bloodstained shirt.

The Engineer barely looked up at him from his rigorous practice of repeatedly smacking the back of his sentry with a wrench, making up for the sentry’s recent damage from a rogue grenade. “S’what I’m here for, partner.” He looked up from his finished repairs, and flashed the Sniper a little smile once he registered which teammate addressed him. “That snake’s got nothing else to do but either messin’ with my contraptions or tryin’ to stick you, it seems. At least he’s took care of for now.”

His sentry beeped in attention, its aim rapt to a passing Scout, which was soon no more than a dark stain on the ground after a barrage of missiles. The Engineer gave a dark chuckle at the scene. More gloating ceased as that gap in the man and machine’s attention allowed a Demoman from the other side to fire off a couple grenades in their direction. The Engineer turned at the familiar sound of the grenade launcher to see two rounds sailing their way before the sentry focused on obliterating the Demoman. The Engineer dove at the Sniper, shouting, “Get down!” as they tumbled as far away from the blast as time would allow. Upon the sound of the blasts, the Engineer felt a deep pain in his side, knocking the wind from him. Shrapnel. He looked back at his builds, tried to stand. If he could just get up, maybe he could salvage the damage before it was too late.

The Sniper barely registered what was happening before a pair of grenades whistled past him. Next thing he knew he was lying in the muddy ground, his clothes soaking in the damp earth. His ears were ringing from the explosion and his vision was blurry for a few moments before his eyes came into focus. The Engineer was lying next to him in a similar state. The Sniper groaned as he got up, thinking he might have landed on his injured shoulder at one point during his fall. He steadied himself and offered his hand to the Texan beside him.

“Bloody hell, that was a close one. Alright there, mate? I reckon you save the both of us just now.” He inspected his fallen comrade and saw the jagged piece of metal imbedded in the Engineer’s side, a red stain beginning to spread out from underneath it. He winced sympathetically. Shrapnel wounds were a special kind of excruciating.

“Come on then, let’s get ourselves to the Medic, yeah?” The Australian offered his uninjured shoulder to lean on.

The Engineer did his best to grab ahold of the Sniper’s frame. He struggled to speak; every movement of his lungs wrought a deep pain from his side. “The dispenser… might still work.” He tried to lean down to pick up his wrench and stumbled, grunting in pain. “I gotta get to my builds, gotta fix em’.” He moved a hand to his side to press at the wound, warm blood flowing between his fingers as he grimaced at the size of the shrapnel in him. The Sniper had difficulty steading his comrade with their height difference. He practically had to crouch to support the Texan. The sharpshooter had every intention of leading his teammate to the Medic, but the Engineer shrugged him off and shakily made his way towards his busted machines.He staggered back to his sparking, smoking builds, panting from the effort. His breaths felt shallow, wasted. A lung was likely filling with blood; he could taste it welling in his mouth.

“What are you doing, mate? You need a Medic, we both do.” He tried to reason with the stout man. He ignored him in favor of banging away at the ruined dispenser with his miracle wrench.

He gave the dispenser a weak smack. One of the interfaces sparked to life, but refused to emit the cool, healing vapors he and his teammate so desperately needed. His frustrated sigh ended in coughing up blood as he readied another blow to the machine. The ammo shelf aligned and refilled itself. 

“It’s scrap, Truckie. Let’s go before you bleed out and die. We won’t have time to respawn.” The Sniper tried to persuade him as he tugged at the man’s sleeve. He began feeling lightheaded himself. He had half a mind to find and bring the Medic back to them.

Progress couldn’t be any more infuriating. Engineer lifted the wrench over his head; it felt like it was made of lead as he brought it down as hard as he could. The vapors finally sputtered fourth as Engineer collapsed to his knees, breathless.

The Sniper cursed and limped after him.“Well, I’ll be daft.” The Sniper breathed.

He let himself collapse next to the Texan, gasping as the vapors seeped into his wound and mended the torn flesh. It felt like sparks were going off in his shoulder. He turned lazily to his companion and eyed him with half lidded eyes; he seemed to be on the verge of unconsciousness. He nudged him a little with his elbow and pointed to where the metal still dug into his side.

“Need any help with that, mate?”

The Engineer leaned against his salvaged build, embracing it for a moment as the function of his lungs returning to him as he caught his breath. He spat out what blood remained in his mouth before he spoke. “If you don’t mind, it needs to come out quick so the wound can heal up.” The Engineer more fully displayed his wounded side to the Sniper, gritting his teeth in preparation for the shrapnel’s removal. Engineer eyed his other build. They didn’t have much time. The sentry, bless it, was still standing, sparking, it’s usual attentive rotation reduced to a shuddering twitch. A fell breeze could knock the damn thing over. The Engineer needed to tend to it as soon as possible. “I need get right and get to mah sentry, I ain’t about to lose this spot.”

“Right, brace yourself, mate,” He gently gripped the end of the shrapnel as he rested his hand on his friend’s shoulder to steady him. He yanked it out as fast as he could, but he could never hope to be quick enough to spare the man the pain of tearing a hunk of metal from his body. He grimaced as the Engineer screamed, then patted his back consolingly, flinging the shard away.

“If you’re good, I’ve got to make myself scarce. I’m not much good to anyone in plain sight.” He began standing, taking a moment to wobble unsteadily before righting himself.

“Thanks for saving my skin back there, Truckie. I’ll see you back at the base.” With that he ran off to the wooden buildings to get into position.

An hour later the bell rang out and their employer announced their victory over the REDs.

BLU rejoiced, reveling in their hard-earned win after a string of stalemate battles peppered with losses. Spirits were high in the mess hall that night, not even the usual bland slop of dinner could douse the sweet taste of victory. Lively conversation and tales regaling feats of combat filled the room. The Engineer served up his plate of what, he wasn’t actually sure, and sat next to the Sniper. Most were indulging Scout’s going on a detailed tirade of a particularly sweet kill he made in the battle, and his ramblings made little sense to the Engineer who caught the tail end of it. For some reason, it involved a fish. Judging everyone’s expressions, they seemed to lose him a little along the way too, but all laughed along when he finished. 

“It’s likely RED, with their tails tucked in and all, will want to talk their way into a ceasefire.” The Engineer said to Sniper under another bragging tirade from the Soldier responding to Scout. He hoped the mention of a ceasefire would jog the Sniper’s memory of his idea all those weeks back.

The Sniper smirked.

“Already, eh? Well, I can’t say it’s upsetting news.” He said as he dug his fork into his “food.” The prospect of another ceasefire lightened his mood considerably, despite his raw shoulder. The wonders of the Medic’s healing vapor could seal up wounds in an instant, but they still took time to fully heal. He rubbed at the spot where the wound was, pensively. He was getting careless. The sharpshooter looked up from his meal and gazed at his teammate. If they were going to have some leave time, it would be the perfect opportunity to take their hunting trip.

“You think we should start planning our hunt, then? Should only take a day for me to prepare, ‘specially since I’ll be taking my van with me.”

“Sure, I’d like that.” The Engineer nodded and smiled as their eyes met. He was pleased the topic came up so quickly with the Sniper, maybe he was looking as forward to it as he, perhaps more. His mind began to wander about what all a trip like this would entail, could lead to. His mind snapped back to more practical matters. “Anything in particular I should bring ‘sides regular campin’ gear?” 

On the other side of the table, the Heavy was doing his best to lead the others in a Russian song, his deep voice booming over the others mumbling along nervously. The Engineer sniggered at the spectacle.

“Well you don’t need to bring any guns, I’ve got us covered.” The Sniper grinned cheekily. He planned to teach the Southerner how to handle a real weapon. How to really shoot an animal. He was excited at the prospect. He had wanted the opportunity to spend some time with the Engineer away from his other colleagues for some time now.

“You know how you mentioned hunting buckshot before? I’m going to teach you the /proper/ way to hunt, mate. By the time we’re through, you’ll have a whole forest of game bagged.” The sound of a booming chorus made him turn to the Heavy’s side of the table, where the Russian began singing loudly, with the Demoman drunkenly joining in. He watched them for a moment, amused, before he turned back to his companion.  
“Let’s say we make it interesting, eh? Whoever bags the most game wins. Looser has to cook for the winner.” He thought about that sauce that the Engineer had used on those ribs. He found himself salivating as he remembered the flavor. He just wanted an excuse to have another taste.

An interesting prospect. Though he acknowledged its (obvious charcoal-based) flaws, the Engineer was honestly curious about the Australian’s cooking. This was about as an authentic setting as he was going to get to really see the Sniper’s techniques, though he doubted he had much of a chance against the marksman’s outdoor experience. The Engineer wasn’t about to falter on a bet. “You’re on, partner. I’ll be lookin’ forward to seein’ your recipes in action.” The Engineer whipped out his hand to shake on it, giving the Sniper a spirited look. 

A ceasefire came up just as the Engineer said, and the trip (and their bet) was on. Being of a more analytical mind, the Engineer put a lot of planning into what he would bring, packing, unpacking, and re-packing his things to be ready for any contingency. Finally he nodded, pleased, having finally narrowed down what he would lug along for the trip. He grabbed up his bags headed to Sniper’s van, hoping he didn’t take too long with his preparations.

The Sniper awoke that morning to the sound of someone rapping their hand against to door of his Winnebago. He rose from his bed with a start, cursing himself for oversleeping. He almost forgot what day it was. He darted out of bed and hurried to get dressed.

“I’ll be right out, mate!” He called as he hastily shuffled into his pants.  
After he shrugged on the rest of his apparel (a flannel variation of his usual buttoned up shirt, minus the vest) and donned his usual akubra he deemed himself presentable and opened the door. As expected, there was the Engineer waiting outside, his bags stacked next to him. The Texan chose to forgo his overalls in lieu of a more casual pair of blue jeans, complete with a embroidered western shirt and to top it all off, cowboy boots. His goggles and hardhat were also absent, giving the sharpshooter a good view of his face. He looked good.

“Looking sharp there, Truckie.” He whistled appreciatively as he moved to help carry his bags into the vehicle. “Hope you brought everything you need. Get this, I borrowed a crate a’ booze from our friend Demoman. I mean, you know the kind of swill he drinks, but it’ll at least be something, yeah?”

The Engineer gave a short chuckle. “We’re on the same page. I brought some stuff I was squirrellin’ away for a rainy day.” He picked up a metal cooler beside him to load into the van. “If you don’t mind a pale lager, I reckon the taste is better than what Demo fancies, not to undermine the accomplishment of separating eyepatch from his liquor.” 

The Engineer wasn’t surprised the Sniper could hardly part from his hat in or out of uniform, but he was amused at the attachment; it suited the Sniper well, made him seem taller than he already was. With the van loaded and ready, Engineer got in the front seat while the Sniper started the van. “This might be an obvious question, but are we after any game in particular, or just bein’ opportunistic? I’m open to eating about anything with a face that’s available.” The Engineer had taken a bit of time to read up on the local flora and fauna, there should be plenty of kinds of fowl and even elk around somewhere. Of course technically being inside a war zone might limit what might wander near.

The Sniper pulled out of the base into the open road, heading in no particular direction.

“I’m used to hunting for just about whatever is available, mate. I wouldn’t worry too much about what there is, there’s always something. Hell, if all we have out there are wild pigeons, I’ll still kill and eat ‘em.” The marksman replied to the Engineer’s query.

After driving for several miles the pair finally reached an open forest to their liking. The Sniper parked the Winnebago a ways off the road and after picking up their gear, began their trek into the woods. Their search for a desirable clearing was rather uneventful. The Sniper kept an eye out for signs of activity, but hardly found any. They eventually reached a spot of even ground a few yards away from a stream.

“I’d say here’s good, yeah? Right next to running water, level footing. No sign of bears.” He joked about the last one, but bears were not to be fucked with. He set his gear on the ground and turned to the Southerner.

“If you need any help setting up your tent, let me know. I’m going to prepare the guns. We can start looking for game in an hour or two, if you’re up to it.”

“I’ll have no problems with that whatsoever.” The Engineer had brought a tent wired with nitinol wire, a shape-memory alloy that, according to the tent’s design, would automatically assemble itself upon activation. Once he brought it out at a suitable spot, it did just that in seconds. The Engineer put his hands on his hips and gave Sniper a smug look. 

The Sniper had seen a great many things in his life and his time with BLU team, but never before had he witnessed a tent assemble itself. He gaped for a moment at the Engineer, looking from the fully constructed tent back to the Texan. He eventually gave up trying to find words he could use to reply to what he had just seen, then turned back to his task of assembling the rifles, intent on setting up his own tent afterwards.

Setting up the rest of camp was almost as easy. The Engineer fancied himself a simple man, but clearly didn’t hold up when compared to the Spartan setup the Sniper was used to. The Engineer had brought a good amount of cooking supplies and ingredients, a little map prototype he had been tinkering with (a kind of global positioning system), and the small cooler of beer he brought was more of a self-powered mini fridge. When they were finished, they headed out into the trees for the rest of the afternoon, the Engineer following the Sniper’s lead and keeping his eyes peeled, though he wasn’t entirely sure what to look for.

While fixing the muzzle to the stock of the first gun, he watched his friend unpack his assorted goods. He smirked, amused at just how many contraptions the grease-monkey brought for a couple of meager days outdoors, and slightly perplexed as to how he carried them all with minimum evident strain.

Once both their rifles had been reconstructed and loaded, the marksman prepared his own tent, with hardly any of the showmanship and none of the autonomy the Engineer had previously displayed with his. After the tent was pitched he tossed a rifle to his companion and the pair wandered into the brush together to begin their hunt.

A half hour passed with no sign of an animal or even a trail indicating there were any about. This did not bode well for the two mercenaries. The Sniper insisted on wandering further, making sure to keep track of where they had been and how far away from their campsite they had traveled. After another two hours without a sign of practical game, the Sniper began losing faith and considered heading back, not wanting to wander around aimlessly until dark, though that was still a few hours off.

“I don’t think we’ll find any worth-while critters wandering about today, mate. Want we should head back and call it a night?”

This biome was more foreign to both the men. The Engineer was having a fine time enjoying the scenery and just walking in silence with the Sniper, sometimes forgetting they were actually looking for something. “Well, if you think so I’m in no position to argue. I’d wager it’s close enough to suppertime. We don’t have to bag anything today to have some good eatin, I think we can salvage some flavor from what we brought.” The Engineer nodded and they both turned back the way they came. “Too bad we didn’t come up on anything, but I expect tomorrow to be trying that recipe of yours.” The Engineer smirked, thinking about their deal. 

The two had enough sense not to get lost and got back to their camp as the orange light of the evening sky filtered through the evergreens. They had forgotten to look out for sources of firewood and spent the remaining light gathering enough for the night. As it wasn’t too cold, fire wasn’t entirely necessary, but it wouldn’t be camping without it. As the Sniper readied an area and stacked the wood in a way conducive for fire, the Engineer readied some tinder and matches.

When the fire was low and hot, the Engineer got out some cans of baked beans and collard greens, and dehydrated bacon to heat up in a pot. He was hungry enough to just eat it all out of the package, but he didn’t bring all this cooking supplies for them to go to waste. Just the smell of the simple meal simmering over the fire was making his mouth water. He took it off the fire and dug in before it cooled, toughing out the heat to satisfy his hunger. “What’d you bring along? I’ll throw it in a pot for ya.” The Engineer said with a mouth full of greens, wafting air towards his burning mouth.

At the Engineer’s question, the Sniper froze when he remembered that he had nothing to offer up. He had foolishly trusted in the idea that he was guaranteed a meal from whatever he caught, not anticipating the possibility that there wouldn’t be any game for him to shoot down. He felt his face flush with embarrassment.

“I uh, don’t really know how to tell you this, but I didn’t bring anything. I figured I wouldn’t have to as long as we were hunting…,” he trailed off lamely, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. 

He seated himself by the fire anyway and watched hungrily as his friend stirred the pot. He wasn’t going to beg for scraps. He made a mistake and he would have to live with the consequences. He just hoped there would be something to nab tomorrow and that he wouldn’t be too distracted by his hunger to impede his performance.

The Engineer gave him an incredulous look, shaking his head. The Sniper was too cocky for his own good, though he admitted to himself he liked seeing the Sniper get flustered. It was kind of cute. “Ever heard of protein starvation? It’s a form of acute malnutrition. The liver can only metabolize about three hundred grams of protein a day; you can’t expect to eat meat for every meal.” The Engineer pulled out another can of collard greens and dumped it into the pot. “Try some greens, boy.” He handed him a bowl once the green slop got warm. “I’ll make you an omelet with some powdered eggs I brought in the morning, too. We gotta be in top shape tomorrow.”

The Sniper considered protesting when he was handed the bowl, but at that second his stomach chose to grumble loudly, so he accepted the greens silently and dug in. The food warmed his body and relaxed him after a long day in the wilderness. When he finished off the food he yawned into his hand. If he was already feeling tired after only half a day of walking he must be getting soft. Nevertheless, he got up and nodded to the Texan.

“I think I’m gonna call it a night early. I want to be well-rested tomorrow, when the /real/ hunt begins. Thanks for sharing your food, mate.” He stretched and headed to his tent to dress down. After divesting himself of his shirt and pants he reflexively began sliding down his briefs before he paused. Normally the sharpshooter slept in the nude, but he usually didn’t have company over when he slept. He didn’t know whether or not the Engineer had a problem with male nudity, but he supposed he should keep at least his undergarments on just in case.

After tossing his clothes into his tent the Sniper headed to the creek nearby to freshen up. He cupped some water into his hands and splashed it onto his face and neck, feeling relieved to wash away some of the day’s accumulated grime.

The Engineer snuck a few glances at the man as he pretended to eat, realizing his last few feigned spoonfuls had no food on them. More and more often the Engineer found himself distracted by the Sniper’s appearance, them finally being alone didn’t help, but this display took the cake. He stopped the ruse when the Sniper wasn’t looking and couldn’t help but stare. He was as lean and rugged as he imagined under his clothes. A trail of coarse dark hair spread from his chest all the way past what precarious skin his boxers covered. Thoughts about how the Sniper’s skin would feel, would taste against his lips, briefly arose in his mind. 

He noticed a tattoo; a decorated heart on his shoulder that had something written on it, he couldn’t tell in the light. Probably the name of a lover. He felt foolish lusting after the Sniper when likely some woman had rightfully snagged him. The Engineer decided to distract himself from any more risky looks and improbable pursuits and change clothes himself while the Sniper was further away, turning around as he went through a bag for his nightclothes and stripped down.

Just as he was crossing the threshold to the campsite on his way back from the stream, the Sniper was greeted with a sight he wouldn’t soon forget. Standing with his back turned to the assassin was the Engineer, devoid of almost all of his clothes. The Sniper froze in place for a moment before ducking back behind a tree and peeking out. The Texan turned back around and pulled on a pair of comfortable looking slacks. As he watched the other man dress his eye were drawn to his abdomen. Just as he suspected, the man had a slight paunch, but it looked good on him. The Sniper thought it only served to make the shorter man cuter. The Engineer’s pecks were well-defined, as were his biceps.

The Sniper felt his face warm. He shouldn’t be doing this, eyeing his friend while he was unaware of his presence. He felt ashamed, and slightly turned on. While the Southerner was preoccupied with tugging a fresh undershirt over his head the Sniper walked out of his hiding place as quietly and inconspicuously as possible. He nodded to his companion nonchalantly as he made his way back to his tent, hoping his face wasn’t ruddy enough for him to notice.

“G’night, Truckie.” He called as he crawled into his tent for the night. As he lay in his sleeping bag, willing himself to sleep, images of the kindly Texan danced across his vision.


	4. Chapter 4

The Sniper awoke in the middle of the night to cold rain dripping at a steady rate onto his face and sleeping bag. His tent was fairly used from his trips in the Outback, but he didn’t think it was falling apart already. He cursed. That was the third time he was unprepared for this outing. He really was getting soft. He wiggled out of his sleeping bag, already getting wet . How had he not woken up to this mess sooner?

Goddamn Thunder Mountain.

As he walked out of his tent into the pouring rain in nothing but his underwear, he looked for a way to cover the holes peppering his shelter. On the other side of the campsite, the Engineer’s tent caught his eye. He shivered in the rain, thinking about the dry warmth of the other man’s tent. Surely the grease-monkey couldn’t fault him for seeking shelter in his tent when his own weather-worn one was soaked?

He made his way inside and sat as close to the exit as possible and allowed himself to drip-dry for a few minutes so that he wouldn’t get his companion wet as well. He looked at the Southerner sleeping peacefully away in his snug sleeping bag. It looked nice and dry.

As he wriggled close to the other, he realized all the jostling and even thunder failed to wake his sleeping companion. The damn Texan slept like a rock. The Sniper sighed and tried to make himself comfortable, hopping he would get back to sleep despite the storming sky outside.

The Engineer slowly woke from surreal dreams of beef jerky. He felt a warmth beside him, and in his half-awake state, instinctively snuggled up to it, draping an arm over the source, pulling it closer. His eyes snapped fully open, uttering a kind of surprised grunt when he realized who was in his tent and what he himself was doing to him. The Engineer shifted away from Sniper, who had his back turned from him, still sound asleep. He didn’t object to Sniper being in his tent, just a little confused. From this view of Sniper’s bare back, he noticed light scars, most of them bite wounds from the look of them. He could also see what that tattoo from earlier said. It read “Mum” in big, black letters. The Engineer couldn’t help but smile. The Sniper was a Momma’s Boy. How adorable. 

He resisted the urge to lay back where he was with the man, feign sleep, and continue to hold him. His movements had already begun to wake the Sniper, it seemed. The man turned on his back, mumbling incoherently to himself. 

“Just what are you doing in here?” The Engineer asked him. “Somethin’ wrong with your own tent?”

The Sniper woke up blearily at the shifting movements behind him. Evidently the Engineer had woken up and seemed a bit confused at the Sniper’s presence in his tent. He stretched to ward away the remaining sleepiness and turned to his companion.

“Mhm. It started pouring down last night outta nowhere, and I didn’t realize me tent’s full ‘a holes. The inside got soaked, so I figured you wouldn’t mind sharing with me. Sorry if I took you by surprise, didn’t want to wake ya.” The Sniper explained to his friend.

The Sniper continued to subvert the Engineer’s expectations of his wilderness mastery and preparedness. He found it charming in a way, couldn’t help but crack a little smile from amusement. “Going on your track record so far, I might just be the one to bag all the game. I don’t mind the intrusion; I’m not about to leave a friend out in the cold rain.” The Engineer rose to get out of the tent. The ground was wet; the sky was thankfully clear. “I’ll get to work on breakfast. Let me know if you need any help hanging your things out to dry.” 

The Engineer got ready for the day and began to get breakfast together as he said. The firewood they had gathered last night was wet like everything else- no good for a fire until it dried. The Engineer wasn’t fazed, he had a backup. He had brought a self-powered, compact portable Bunsen burner, and he got to cooking a powdered-egg omelet almost right away. “You want any grits with your omelet? I brought ‘em canned.” The Engineer looked over at him.

The Sniper began hanging his damp belongings on a nearby tree along with his disassembled tent. Luckily his clothes were stored in a water-proof ruck-sack, so he had something to put on. After dressing he made his way to where the Engineer was cooking, noting the contraption he brought out to fuel the flame. When the Texan turned to him the shorter man’s question caught him off guard.

“Erm…Grits?” he asked, confused.

The Engineer forgot how regional that food was. “It’s kind of a ground corn porridge, you should try some.” He finished the final flip of an omelet, handing the finished product to Sniper, and got to work heating the can of grits in question. “It’s a breakfast staple where I come from. One of the few truly American foods.” He glopped a dollop of the bubbling stuff onto Sniper’s plate, then worked to prepare his own meal.

“Thanks.” The Sniper spoke as he was handed his food. He stared down at the “grits” on his plate. They seemed innocuous enough, and the Sniper wasn’t picky about his food, eating just about anything he could scrounge up. He shrugged and dug into the meal. The omelet was fantastically fluffy and the grits warmed his body nicely. It was a good meal.

“Not bad, these grits.” He told the Texan. “You make a fine meal, Truckie.”

As he waited for the Engineer to finish his own meal, he contemplated today’s plan of attack. Perhaps he would bring his bow this time. He stood from his spot and made his way to where he left his Huntsman in its case. He pulled the weapon out and returned to the fire to string it.

“Bet you never used bow before, eh mate?”

The Engineer had seen him use that weapon in battle before, but the thought never occurred to him that the Sniper would also hunt with it. The primeval weapon suited him, suited his unassuming, rugged style, but he wondered if the Sniper chose it to level the playing field, give the Engineer a chance at beating him in their trifling wager. A rifle just had more advantages, he thought, and as cocksure as he pretended to be about it, he knew that armed with the same tools, the Sniper had him beat.

The Engineer spoke up after a final bite. “Is that there weapon specialized for taking out any game in particular, or does it just suit your fancy for the day?” Surely it had some more advantages over a rifle that Sniper was aware of.

The Australian smirked at the Engineer’s question.

“It’s not that it’s any /better/ than a rifle, there’s just something about hunting with a bow that has a primitive charm to it.” The sharpshooter finished stringing the weapon and went to retrieve his quiver and a rifle for his companion. He handed the gun to the Southerner and nodded towards the forest before them.

“Ready to go kill something, mate?”

“Heck yeah.” The Engineer nodded and the two headed out. He looked forward to seeing what the marksman could do with that bow. Like yesterday, he tried to keep his eyes peeled as best as he could for anything out there at all, and he didn’t see a thing. It was no time to give up hope yet, they were barely an hour into their excursion. 

The Engineer words were low, cautious of his volume despite the lack of game. “Do you ‘spose that this land technically being in a war zone would-”

“Shhhh…,” the Sniper interrupted the stout man’s question with a finger to his lips. The rustling of leaves up in a nearby tree caught his attention. He took out his bow as quietly as he could and removed an arrow from the quiver on his back. After knocking the weapon and raising it in the direction of the tree he drew the string back, waited for a moment to steady his aim, and let the arrow fly. He could tell it hit it’s mark by the soft ‘thump’ of something falling out of the tree and hitting the ground below.

The marksman made his way to his kill with the Texan in tow. A lone turkey, freshly dead with an arrow lodged in its neck, laid at the base of the tree. The Sniper grinned. A plump turkey was a great catch. Plenty of meat to go around. He snatched the dead fowl off the ground by the back of its neck and surveyed his prize proudly.

The Engineer slapped his knee, hollering in delight at the unexpected success. “Now I know why they call you bushman! We’ll have some mighty fine eatin’ no matter how the rest of the day goes.” The Engineer beamed. He gestured towards the rifle in his hand. “I suppose the pressure’s on for me to catch up.”

After witnessing that feat of archery, the Engineer knew he didn’t have a hope of getting a shot off, even if he spotted something first. It didn’t bother him one bit though, he was having a fine time with the Sniper.

As the pair continued their hunt the Sniper managed to kill three more animals, two pigeons and a juicy-looking pheasant. The Engineer even managed to spot and shoot a quail. Though the single quail he bagged was small, insignificant compared to the growing cache of kills from Sniper, the Engineer was proud of his spoil. The day’s catch played out much better than expected, especially considering just yesterday the whole forest seemed deserted. The bushman didn’t know what had suddenly dragged the animals out of hiding, but he was glad for it. While the Texan was preoccupied with putting his first catch away, something on the forest floor caught the Sniper’s eyes. Large, almond-shaped tracks imprinted in the damp soil.

“Oi, c’mere Truckie.” He called for the man behind him. As the Southerner walked up he gestured to the ground.

“Those can’t be from any earlier than this morning, ‘else the rain would ‘a washed them away. We’re on the trail of a deer, mate.” The Sniper grinned. Though he got lucky spotting the nimble quail, the Engineer couldn’t see hardly any of the tracks and signs the Sniper was talking about until directly pointed to. Once he knew what they were tracking, he was just as thrilled as the bushman. The Sniper could just barely contain his enthusiasm. He couldn’t have anticipated running into a deer after their sparse encounter rate last night, and a buck no less, judging by the size of the prints. If they could bag the beast they would be set for the whole hunt.

They followed the trail of prints deeper into the forest until they were lead to a small clearing with lush vegetation that had clearly been chewed upon. A few of the trees had scratches and pieces of bark missing from their trunks, indicative of a deer rubbing it’s antlers against them. The Sniper looked around before spotting a tall tree, great for surveying the area.

“There. We climb that tree and get a better view, see if we can spot something.” The Sniper pointed.

As they made their way up the Sniper assisted the shorter man, who found it more difficult to climb than the lanky Australian. After finding a high enough branch that served as both a great view of the forest and a safe spot to support their combined weight, the Sniper sat himself behind the Texan and began scanning the area with his keen eyes.

After a few minutes his gaze found a brown form far in the distance, barely visible from the naked eye and camouflaged by the branches of a bush.

“Right there, that’s him.” He pointed to the brown speck. “Get your rifle ready, I can’t get him from this distance with my bow.”

Following through the Sniper’s plan of climbing a tree proved to be more difficult than he had thought, needing help from the Sniper what seemed like every other branch. He was clearly out of his own territory; the Sniper had a way of moving, stalking through the brush, making things look effortless and the Engineer feel like he was just bumbling along after him. Getting to a good branch and finally seeing the view was worth all the effort; he was too busy enjoying the vantage, and his proximity to the Sniper, to spot any animals.

When the Sniper started talking about a deer, the Engineer couldn’t see what he was going on about. He squinted, scanning the direction he pointed. “I can’t see a thing.” He lifted the scope to an eye, hoping to spot it with its assistance. He finally could make out a moving shape, far off, and mostly obscured by foliage. The Engineer was impressed with Sniper’s sharp eye. He didn’t know how he’d hope to get it from this distance, or even what part of the animal he was really looking at. The Engineer mumbled to himself in mild frustration. He wanted to show the Sniper he wasn’t useless with a gun; BLU didn’t hire him just for his gadgets, after all. Keeping the rifle steady on his target at such a great distance was quite difficult; Engineer really didn’t think he could hit his target. “I have to admit I don’t have quite your expertise with a rifle. It’s likely I can’t make this shot.”

The Sniper scoffed at the mechanic’s claim.

“What are you going on about? You’re handling a gun, not delivering a baby. Here.” The Sniper scooted closer behind the Southerner and grasped his arms in his, sliding them into place on the weapon and guiding them towards the target, accounting for the direction of the wind and angle. He could feel the other man shaking slightly in his arms, likely from the tenseness of trying to keep in place. The marksman smirked.

“Relax mate, you’re going to throw off your aim like that. There’s nothing to worry about, that buck ain’t going anywhere soon. We’ve got all the time in the world.” He tried to reassure the shorter man. He noticed the Engineer was slightly hunched over to look into the scope. He removed his hands from the other man’s and pressed them to either side of his shoulders.

“Lift the gun and straighten out your back.” He whispered into his ear. “There you go…”

With his body pressed against the Engineer’s back he could feel his breathing, short little puffs in and out of his chest. His heart was beating abnormally fast too, like he was worried the deer would disappear.

“I told ya to relax, mate. And you’re breathing wrong. Not from your chest,” He pressed his hand to the other man’s front, then trailed it down to his stomach. “from your belly. Nice deep breaths, now.” He felt the Texan adjust his oxygen intake, though he could feel his heart continue to thrum wildly in his chest.

“Whenever you’re ready, take the shot.” He breathed.

The Sniper’s suggestions would be helpful if Sniper wasn’t so distracting to him. He couldn’t help but focus on the feeling of the Sniper’s steady hands on him, his breath gracing his ear at every low word, body pressed against his own, instead of the actual target. Engineer worried that he might be blushing, hoped Sniper wouldn’t notice. He felt embarrassed this was affecting him so; here his friend was trying to teach him something practical, and Engineer was messing up this opportunity on impractical feelings that in all likelihood could never be reciprocated. Engineer frowned. 

His determination overcame his distress, and he took in Sniper’s advice. He managed to calm himself - the breathing technique seemed to help. He focused on the distant animal; the target began to consume more and more of his thoughts. The buck’s movements grazing were careful, graceful as it strode into a clearer area. The opportunity came with his patience. Taking the shot felt like a natural reflex to this perfect opening. The deer crumpled to the forest floor. Engineer threw an arm up, hollering in delight, stopping to regain his precarious balance on the branches. The Sniper was just as excited as the Texan. 

The two began a hurried descent from the tree, giddy from the success. When they made their way to admire the fresh kill, Engineer put his hands on his hips, his chest swelling with pride. The buck was in its prime, only the small bullet hole in its side marred the splendor of the creature. “Now if we’re going by weight, I think that definitely puts me in the lead.”

The Sniper was impressed, regardless of his assistance in the kill. The Engineer’s comment caused his smile to falter for a moment.

“Now mate, if you recall the deal was whoever kills the /most/ wins. I’ve still got four to your two.” He whistled. “It /is/ an impressive kill. Wouldn’t ‘a made it without my help though, so that makes it just as much /my/ kill. Five to three.”

The Engineer’s brows raised. “Your kill? You think you can get in on any of this-” the Engineer gestured at the buck. “from just a little pep talk back there? I’ll admit by your qualifications you’re still in the lead, but this here’s my buck.” He folded his arms. “I like to think I’m a reasonable gentleman, so I will certainly share in the bounty of this kill. With the count standing at three to four, I have a fighting chance ‘fore this excursion is through.” The Engineer maintained a slight cocky smirk.

The Sniper rolled his eyes. He didn’t want to argue with the Southerner, knowing how they usually went at it. It was already late, and they needed to head back soon if they aimed to reach camp before the sun set and they were at the mercy of the night. So he swallowed his pride and conceited to the other man for the time.

“Fine, the kill’s yours. But /I/ get to keep the antlers. Now help me lug this bastard back to camp so we can fix it into a right proper meal.” He groaned as he began hefting the dead buck onto his shoulders, stumbling precariously at the imbalance caused by the hefty beast before falling over without assistance.

They arrived back at their clearing of the woods just before the sun sank under the horizon, panting and exhausted. They dropped the corpse to the ground beside the fire pit in little more than a controlled spill. The Sniper’s entire shirt front was drenched in sweat and his shoulders were killing him. He hadn’t been expecting to catch such a large animal, let alone have to carry it through the woods on his back for hours. He couldn’t say that he regretted it though, the deer made for quite the prize despite the effort it took to bring it with them.

“Let’s get started on ‘im in a few, mate. I need a moment to catch my breath.” The sharpshooter told his companion from his position slumped against a log. “I could use a beer…,” he mumbled to himself.

The Engineer pulled out a couple of beers from his cooler and passed one to the Sniper. He sighed as he sat on the forest floor, finally able to rest his feet. The Engineer took a swig of the ice-cold drink and it tasted like the best thing he ever put in his mouth. The reprieve was short, they still had work to do.

The Engineer helped the Sniper gut and clean the kills, and ready the fire to cook some choice cuts of the buck. 

The Engineer had planned what he would do with the rest of the animals long ago. He had brought with him a compact prototype of the long-distance teleporter; the other end was back at his workshop inside a freezer unit. The animals were perfect tests. They were organic matter and completely free of wheat. Better yet, it was the perfect method of preserving their hard work. 

As the Sniper fiddled with starting the fire, the Engineer readied his teleporter. “I’m gonna zap these babies back to the base, they’ll be frozen waiting for us there.” He smiled, pleased with his plan.

The Sniper was grateful when the Texan handed him the beverage. He immediately took a swig and felt the cold liquid soothe his parched throat and cool him off.

“Cheers, mate.” He thanked his friend for the refreshment.

After readying the meat for cooking the marksman went about starting the fire. From the corner of his eye he watched as the shorter man began loading their collective kills one by one onto what looked to be a miniature teleporter.

He merely grunted a reply at the Engineer’s comment. He didn’t really have much to contribute when it came to conversations about the Southerner’s wondrous machines. The Australian didn’t claim to know much about gadgets, and understanding the Engineer’s particular devices required a level of competence the Sniper found himself lacking in. He was grateful the stout man was on his side of the battlefield. He didn’t want to know what a man of his genius would make for an enemy.

After getting a good blaze going the sharpshooter began the task of setting up the roasting spit, after which he moved to season the newly cleaned cuts of meat, giving them a generous coating of spices.

“You want to get in on this, or will you be satisfied with just my contributions to the flavor?” The Sniper asked his companion.

The Engineer wanted to taste what the Sniper’s culinary skills had to offer, but he didn’t want him doing all the work, either. He had brought along flavor concoctions of his own for this very reason, and decided some dashes of things here and there wouldn’t hurt. He pulled out and applied a few of his own spices, and a packet or two of a light sauce of his own creation. “That should perfect it.” He rubbed his hands together in anticipation and sat down next to Sniper. “Can’t wait to try it. I don’t believe I’ve had venison before. Do you think cornbread would pair with it? I’ve got a packet of mix I can make in a skillet.”

The Sniper took the freshly seasoned cuts from the Engineer and skewered them to the spit, placing them over the fire to roast. It didn’t take long for the delicious scent of simmering meat to fill the campsite.

“I’ve had my fair share of venison. There’s plenty of deer where I come from. ’S not bad, makes for good jerky.” He replied to the Southerner’s comment.

The Engineer seemed excited at the prospect of having so much to cook with. It made the marksman smirk. At the mention of something called “cornbread” the Sniper merely shrugged, assuming it was yet another food exclusive to America that he had never heard of before, but did not object to trying.

“I’m fine with whatever you want to whip up, Truckie.”

The Engineer got up again to find what he needed to contribute towards the meal, the fresh smells got him thinking about all the wonderful meals he could make with what all they bagged. He spoke as he worked to get the side dish prepared. “Now that I think about it, we might have what we need to make some chili later. Whoooowee, I haven’t had such a swath of culinary opportunities in a mighty long time.”

The food was simply divine. Both of their recipes complemented each other perfectly, and the two remained silent as they focused on their meal. The Sniper was pleased when the meat was finally ready to be consumed. Every bite was delicious, a perfect mixture of his usual home-style flavor combined with the Engineer’s exquisite Southern recipe. The sharpshooter savored every bite and helped himself to seconds when he finished his first serving. After eating he leaned back against his log seat and closed his eyes, feeling full and content. 

The Engineer set aside his cleaned plate and sighed, content, leaning back on his palms. “I am absolutely stuffed. Couldn’t eat another bite.” He spied his guitar case among his things, and got it out to idly play. "Do you play anything?”

After a moment the Sniper heard a pretty little tune and opened his eyes to find his companion strumming lazily at his guitar. The soft sounds being pulled from the instrument lulled the Australian into a deep, comforting daze. He roused a bit when he heard his friend ask him a question.

“I uh, I play the sax a bit.” He replied, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. He appreciated the instrument, but due to its large size it was too cumbersome to keep around. He rarely got the opportunity to actually play it.

He realized the saxophone was probably the last thing anyone ever pictured him playing. It was such a smooth and sensual sounding instrument, the Australian always got a little embarrassed when he mentioned being able to play it.

The Engineer never suspected he could play an instrument, let alone the saxophone. It made the Engineer smile, picturing the bushman jamming out some jazzy tunes. He strummed a few chords from bits of songs, and finally settled on some Johnny Cash, humming some of the lyrics, not feeling bold enough to sing. 

“You interested in learning a few cords? Lemme show you a thing or two.” The Engineer gestured for Sniper to come closer.

The Sniper shrugged. He had never given much thought over playing the guitar, but the the Engineer made it seem so effortless. He figured he might as well give it a shot. The bushman got up from his spot on the forest floor and saddled up to his comrade, looking expectantly at the guitar.

“Show me how it’s done, Truckie.”

“It’s ain’t a hard thing to learn at all.” He placed the guitar in Sniper’s lap. “Make an A chord like this.” He pointed to all the necessary frets.

The Sniper tried to position his fingers on the instrument like his friend showed him. He gave the string and experimental flick, which created a twangy-sounding echo from the belly of the guitar. The marksman grimaced and tried again, producing the same results.

“Um, I don’t-“ He started, embarrassed. 

Engineer kneeled close behind the man, chest pressing into his back. “Here,” He reached around him to strum an A chord, the note ringing clean and pure. He guided Sniper’s hands along the instrument to do the same, moving them into the correct position, dragging Sniper’s fingers across the strings to make the The note again. “That’s your ‘A’ chord right there. Play around with that and a ‘G’ chord and you got yourself a song.” He said low and soft, as he was close to Sniper’s ear. “You try.” Sniper’s hands were broad and steady, and warm under his own; his own lingered on top of the Sniper’s before he moved them away to let him try again, remaining close to show him the next chord when he was done.

The Sniper froze the moment the Engineer put his hands on him. All too suddenly he felt enveloped by the other man’s warmth and closeness. His face reddened as the Southerner held his hands within his own larger ones. The Australian could feel his friend’s warm breath on his neck with every word he spoke, his voice deep and soft. He felt far too tense as he played along with the other man, allowing him to guide his fingers along the instrument. This much proximity to the Engineer was messing with his senses. He felt hot and flushed. He hoped his friend wouldn’t notice his increased temperature or the way his heart was beating away in his chest. He never realize just how uncomfortable it was to be held like this, even if it was just to advise another. Was it this uncomfortable for the Texan? Had he overstepped his boundaries that time in the tree earlier that day?

He found the Engineer attractive, of course, but he had no intention of acting on his desires. At least, he hadn’t before. Now in the arms of the stout man, the Sniper found it harder and harder to continue pretending to follow along with directions of the guitar and to not just spin around and press himself fully against his comrade and meet his lips. He struggled with himself. Was it worth taking a shot and seeing if the Texan reciprocated his desires? If he misstepped and offended the man, he would be risking their very friendship, something the Sniper valued greatly.

As the Engineer strummed the “D” chord, the Sniper swallowed, his throat dry. He knew he wanted the Texan, even if the other man didn’t want him. He gathered his resolve and put his hand over the mechanic’s gloved one, stopping him. The sharpshooter turned his head toward the Engineer’s face and pressed his chapped lips against the corner of the other man’s mouth hesitantly.


	5. Chapter 5

The Sniper’s kiss shocked him. The Engineer never bothered to even have a hope that Sniper would reciprocate his feelings. He sat, still, taking this revelation in, questioning if that even just happened. His lips twitched and failed to form words as he stared at the Sniper, stared at this rugged man, this focus of his desires. The Engineer took the guitar from Sniper’s hands and gently set it aside, never breaking eye contact. He went for it. He grabbed the Sniper and yanked him in for a long, tender kiss. He broke it only to look into the Sniper’s eyes, to have some confirmation that this moment was even real, lips remaining close to his.

For a moment as the Sniper pulled back from his peck on the Engineer’s lips he was afraid that he had made the wrong move, judging by the momentary stupor his comrade was silenced into. His face fell for the briefest moment before the other man grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and smashed their lips together for another kiss. At first the sharpshooter tensed and hesitated, not quite believing that he was being kissed back, but he quickly melted into the other man’s touch, bringing his right hand up to cup his cheek as he deepened the kiss. The Engineer tasted like the game they just ate, wild and full of spice. It tingled the Sniper’s lips and tongue. He felt hot all over, a desire rising within him.

When they broke apart he gasped for air, licking his lips. He was glad that the Engineer had allowed him to kiss him, but he wanted more than that. He climbed onto the other man’s lap and planted a new kiss onto the Texan’s neck just below his ear.

The Sniper confirmed they were of the same mind as he escalated their heated exchange. The Engineer relished in the stubble scraping his neck as he in turn kissed the man’s neck, tasting the salt of his skin. He held him tighter, pulled him in closer, ran a hand up Sniper’s torso, and felt lean muscle through fabric. Thoughts of everything the Engineer wanted to do to him arose in his mind, and it made him hot. 

Kissing devolved into nibbling, bumping his teeth along skin. He couldn’t get enough of it. He moved a daring hand lower, lower along the Sniper’s back until it rested on his ass. This was a time where he wished his other hand could feel; all sensation from his artificial hand was only a vague sense of pressure. There was just so much of the man all at once.

The Sniper moaned softly against the Texan’s neck as he felt the shorter man grab his ass. He pressed into the touch, kissing and licking along the Engineer’s collar bone. God he wanted this, it had been too long since he’d had a good fuck.

He pulled back momentarily to fumble with the Engineer’s shirt, opening it up to reveal his taut muscles. He ran a hand down the plane of his chest, finger’s grazing a nipple. The sigh he earned stoked the heat pooling within his gut. He pressed his hips to the other man’s, already hard.

“Touch me.” He gasped as he rubbed against him.

This was escalating faster than Engineer ever thought it would. He had no problems with this whatsoever. The Sniper’s calloused hands on him drove him wild, all he wanted was for him to touch him more. At Sniper’s breathy request and reveal of his state of arousal, it fueled the heat pooling in his skin, in his groin, all over. 

“I don’t think you know how long,” The Engineer muttered between ravenous kisses, “I’ve wanted to hear you say that.” Before he could oblige, the Engineer pulled away, got out from underneath the other. As much as he never wanted to separate from the man, there was a better place to do this than the forest floor. He gestured towards the tent, and the two scrambled for the enclosure.

The Engineer shucked off his footwear and kneeled close to the Sniper again, pulling at his collar to expose more skin to caress with his mouth. He worked a hand up Sniper’s shirt, running his fingers through the coarse hair of his torso to toy with a nipple. Engineer relished in finding out just what made the man hot, what made his breath hitch, made him lean into every touch and kiss. He slid his hand lower, tips of his fingers dipping into Sniper’s jeans. He gathered the resolve to stop himself before they got too carried away. “Do you have everything we need?”

Just the feeling the Engineer’s fingers on his bare skin made the Sniper feel on fire. He almost didn’t hear the shorter man’s question.

“Hmm? Oh, we could probably use a rubber, yeah?” He muttered into his companions neck, loath to remove himself from the other man. “I’ve got some in my pack, let me go get it.” He climbed off of the Texan and hurriedly retrieved the packet of condoms he brought; Normally they were good for keeping the dirt out of his rifle barrels in a pinch. When he returned to the tent he quickly pounced back on the Engineer to suck at his throat.

He rubbed himself against the other man, hissing at the delightful friction it caused. He wanted more. The sharpshooter deftly unbuckled his pants and tore his shirt front open, eager to continue what they started. He pressed his palm into the other man’s groin to feel he was just as hard as the Sniper was.

“Come on. I want ya, mate.” He breathed against his ear.

The Engineer bucked his hips into the Sniper’s hand, breath quickening. He pressed his lips onto the Sniper’s, kissing him deeply, greedily. As an invitation for the Sniper to advance his touch, he unfastened his jeans. In turn, the Engineer moved his hand lower, fingertips gracing the Sniper’s wanting loins through his underwear, thin barrier of fabric keeping flesh from flesh. He stifled a shudder of anticipation. It was finally settling in to him that this /was/ happening, that the Sniper had wanted him just as bad as he did him all this time. the Engineer withdrew his touch to tug off his glove, dirtied from the day’s work, then glanced at the mechanical hand underneath. Any lovers he had taken over the years did /not/ like to be touched by the cold steel. The Sniper was likely to feel the same. “I can take this off if you won’t like it.” He fully expected to take it off, other hand resting near the hinges and buttons needed to be switched in the process of twisting it off.

The Sniper audibly protested at the loss of stimulation as the Engineer removed his hand from his groin. He shook his head at the other man’s query.

“I don’t care. I can’t wait any longer mate, I need ya.” He panted out, feeling overcome with need. He moved lower until he reached the waistband of the Texan’s briefs and tugged them down unceremoniously, finally freeing the shorter man’s erection.

The Sniper gazed down at the Southerner’s hard cock, unable to keep from smirking at the shape. It was on the short side, but thick, much like the man it belonged to. The marksman thought it looked cute. It was already leaking precum invitingly, enticing the Sniper. He wanted to take the whole thing in his mouth, just to feel it fill him up. He held it, hot and heavy in his hand, then he lowered his face to it and gave it an experimental lick. He swirled his tongue around the head, coating it with the bitter saltiness leaking from the tip, before engulfing the whole thing slowly until he reached almost to the base and gave a low suck.

The Engineer threw his head back, a low, breathy moan escaping his lips at the feeling of Sniper’s mouth around him. He resisted the urge to thrust into the man; he didn’t want to gag him. Engineer rested his hand on his shoulder, his artificial hand gripped the fabric of his sleeping bag and he clenched his jaw at the thought of coming inside the other man. But this wasn’t how he wanted it to happen. He pushed Sniper off of him and back flat onto the tent floor. Engineer got on top of Sniper, the desire to fuck him senseless spurring his harried removal of Sniper’s clothes. He remained careful to keep his metal hand from touching the other’s skin, unsure of how he would react to the contact. 

The Engineer felt a similar amusement at the reveal of the Sniper’s cock. It was on the long and thinner side, fitting for the lanky man. He couldn’t resist teasing the length with calloused fingertips. He liked hearing the Sniper voice his desires, he wanted to coax more words from him, drive the man to the point of begging the Engineer to take him.

The Sniper allowed himself to be pushed onto the floor of the tent. While he was enjoying the feeling of the Engineer’s cock in his mouth, the other man seemed more eager to get to the main event. The Sniper wasn’t going to deny the shorter man when he himself felt the urgent need for release.

He gasped when he felt the Engineer’s strong but delicate fingers stroke him, pushing him further on the edge. He moved both his comrade’s hands onto his hips to stop him, feeling the stark contrast between heated flesh and cold metal. The sensation was unusual, but not unpleasant. He grabbed the Texan by the back of his neck and pulled him in for another deep kiss, twisting his tongue with his partner’s and wondering briefly if the shorter man could taste himself in the sharpshooter’s mouth. The thought made him dizzy.

“I want you, mate. I want you inside me. I’m ready, let’s go.” He breathed into the Engineer’s ear as he pulled back from the kiss.

The man’s tacit acceptance of his artificial hand made him feel whole in a way, he ran it up Sniper’s torso as he reveled in his words. The Sniper said exactly what he wanted to hear. He resisted the urge to fuck him right away; he so ached deeply for release. The Engineer instead reached for a container of gel that he typically dabbed on places where his skin met the metal of his hand; it would work as lube for this. His fingers slick with the stuff, he eased a digit inside the other man, gently working in more fingers in up to his knuckles. After he felt muscle clench and relax around him, He scissored his fingers, felt for that one spot he knew would drive the Sniper wild.

The Sniper gasped as the first digit entered, the shockingly cold substance gradually warming as the slick finger sank into him. After a moment, in which the Engineer waited for the Sniper to adjust, a second finger was added, spreading him. A third was added to the second, and the shorter man began rhythmically stroking him. When the pads of his fingers brushed against the bundle of nerves inside him that had him clenching himself around his partner, the gunman began to moan softly. He was already so far on the edge he feared that any further stimulation would finish him. The Sniper eased the other man’s fingers out of him and gave him a quick peck on the lips, reaching for the box of rubbers he collected earlier. He tore a packet open with his teeth, pulled the condom out and rolled it onto the Texan’s cock, giving it a light squeeze as his hand lingered.

“Let’s do this, then. Been waiting a long time for this, Truckie.” He told his teammate as he greased his palm with the fluid the other man had used, applying a generous coating of it onto the man’s length.

The Engineer did not hesitate in relieving his need. He spread the Sniper’s legs, positioned the man so he could ease himself into him, allowing him to adjust to the new girth. 

The Sniper clenched his jaw as the Engineer slid into him. His thick cock made the sharpshooter feel like he was being split open, initially. After sinking himself down to the base the Texan politely waited as his partner rode out the pain, the assassin digging little half-moons into the shorter man’s forearms with his nails. He finally let go of his breath and nodded, indicating that he was ready for his partner to move.

Just the tight heat around him made the Engineer groan; he had been wanting this just as long as the Sniper. He slowly began moving as the man relaxed, eliciting low, pleasured sounds from them both. His nails dug into the Sniper’s thigh as he tempered his urge to ravish him too early on. He started out at a slow, comfortable pace, holding back for the sake of the Sniper. Soft light from the fire outside filtered into the tent gave skin a sensual glow, and the Sniper was a pleasing sight laid out before him. So exposed to him, hard, expression flushed, impassioned, lean torso rising and falling with his harried breath, it was enough to drive a man mad with desire. 

The Engineer leaned over him, palming at his swollen cock. He spoke low, telling the Sniper how hot he was, how hot he felt around him, asking him how he liked it, words to entice more declarations from Sniper as he began to pick up the pace.  
His thrusts were shallow but timely, angling at just the right spot to make the bushman moan in pleasure. As the other man touched him with his hands and whispered his affections into his ear the Sniper bit his lip, afraid it would be over too soon. When the Engineer picked up the pace and began thrusting into him in earnest the Sniper could barely keep his voice down.

“Dell!” He cried out, shifting his hands to his partner’s waist as he bit into the man’s shoulder to silence himself.

Hearing his own name brought a rush that made the Engineer dizzy. The Sniper’s cries, his desperate, brazen need, it was almost too much. He grew more daring with his artificial hand now, warming against the heat of the Sniper’s skin; he ran it along his torso as he stroked the man’s cock in time with his pounding thrusts, his cock buried in the man at every effort. “Say it /again/.” The Engineer panted in between low moans, so close he could barely think. He slowed, wanting to draw this out, wanting to draw out more sounds from the man under him, to hear his own name cried out again and again. This was so good, /he/ was so good. The man consumed his thoughts, a fire burning in his mind and body. 

The Sniper’s body was so hot he felt as if he would be consumed in flames at any second. The Engineer traced his skin with his metal hand as he drove into him, setting off sparks within the assassin. His mouth felt dry. He wanted to tell his partner how good he felt, but he choked on the words in his throat. He was in such pure ecstasy that it hardly seemed to matter. He continued to claw at the Engineer’s arms, the bottom of the tent, anything to ground him while his mind fluttered in and out from the intense pleasure. He wrapped his legs around the Texan’s waist and pressed the heel of his foot deeper into his backside, never wanting him to stop.

The Engineer’s pace was faltering, his thrusts becoming erratic and shallow. The Sniper knew he was close. He met the Texan’s thrusts with his own, desperate for more, more stimulation, more contact, more of /him/. The other man paused for a tense moment before he finally gasped out. Sniper’s name caught in Engineer’s throat in a strangled gasp as he cried out, pressed down hard onto the other man as he came. He fought for air as his climax overwhelmed him, lingering and sweet. His hand worked to bring Sniper over the edge as quickly as he could.

. The Sniper felt the man’s cock pulse within him in release. He sighed, disappointed that it was finally over. With the other man still buried inside of him he moved to finish himself off when the Texan surprised him by beating him to the punch. The Engineer pumped his cock quickly, intent to get the assassin off a soon as possible. It didn’t take long before the Sniper came with a shallow gasp, spilling himself over the other man’s fist. The bushman’s head slumped to the floor, breath coming in small puffs. His partner slid next to him and wrapped him up in an embrace. The Sniper rubbed circles into the Texan’s shoulders while his heart rate slowed down to a somewhat normal pace. He pressed his lips to the other man’s ear.

“Next time, you’re fucking me even harder.” He muttered sleepily before he closed his eyes.

The Engineer pecked lazy kisses along The Sniper’s neck. “You can count on it.” He muttered with a smirk.

They held each other throughout the night. The next morning they slept in, reluctant to leave the warm tangled mess of the sleeping bags, each other’s embrace and their sleepy, intimate conversation. Knowing they had to head back today eventually urged them to get up and ready to hike back to the van. The Sniper had to have some of the Texan’s food once more for breakfast, the Engineer insistent that meat alone did /not/ make a balanced breakfast despite the Sniper’s objections that the breakfast steak was the most important steak of the day. 

Conversation was light on the scenic walk back to the Sniper’s van. As they loaded up their bags into the back, the Engineer stepped up into the van and cornered the bushman, pulling him down to meet his lips in an eager kiss. “How ‘bout one for the road?” He murmured with a smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad you made it all the way here. Thank you for reading!


End file.
